


Bloody Bards

by a_humble_bastard (our_pens_are_sharp)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comedy, Crossover, Fake Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:16:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27606833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/our_pens_are_sharp/pseuds/a_humble_bastard
Summary: Inspired by Bloody Cakes 2016What would you do to be famous? Jaskier drunkenly comes up with a plan to get people more interested in his songs- by faking his own death. Geralt, being a good friend, helps him to sell his songs and stay undercover. Why did he agree to this again?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	Bloody Bards

**Author's Note:**

> This entire thing started as a tweet, but somehow the idea stuck with me and I decided to write a (hopefully mini) fic about it. If you don't know Bloody Cakes I highly recommend watching the trailer to see the exact chaotic energy that has inspired me to write this
> 
> Enjoy!

"Have you heard the news yet? About the bard?"

"Oh, I did. What a tragic way to go. And oh, so young."

"Talk is, he's died a hero's death. Went on a mission all alone."

Geralt stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the marked square. All morning he's heard people chat about the latest gossip but he hadn't paid them any heed.. until now. From what he overheard some bard had died unexpectedly, but clearly they were not talking about _his_ bard, right? 

The last time he'd seen Jaskier had been shortly before winter came. That's when their ways usually parted- when Geralt headed home to Kaer Morhen and Jaskier travelled up to Oxenfurt to catch up with some of his bardly colleagues. When they'd parted Jaskier had been very much alive and healthy- and he did not expect that to have changed. He was certain some other unfortunate troubadour had died… but then why did he hear people talk of missions?

  


He shook his head to clear his thoughts. He'd know if Jaskier was dead. If he just ignored the whispers, he could go about his day as usual, get back on the road. A few more days of riding and he'd be in Oxenfurt to pick up his very much alive bard friend. Then they'd continue their journey together as usual, Jaskier talking nonstop and winking at every beautiful girl or handsome man that crossed their path.

So, for the rest of the day he ignored all the talk around him- which turned out to be quite difficult considering his excellent hearing automatically picked up people's conversations. A contract, he figured, he'd just need a contract to distract him and take his mind off the whole rumour.

He went to seek out the town's alderman and as it just so happened, there was a nest of monsters just at the edge of town where the woods began. The issue was quickly dealt with and a few hours later he was returning already, covered in blood and ready to collect his reward.

"Here you go", the alderman said, handing over the little pouch of gold, " and my deepest condolences for your loss."

"What loss?"

"Your friend of course, the bard Jaskier", the man frowned, " I… I assumed you'd heard it already. My apologies, I didn't kno-"

"Tell me what you know", Geralt growled, his grip tightening around the leather pouch in his hand, " as detailed as you can."

The man gulped, clearly uncomfortable, "well it- from what I heard he took on a contract near Oxenfurt- people were surprised to see he went alone, without you by his side, sir. But he claimed to have witnessed a draconite near the city which could have potentially burned down dozens of homes and fields were it not stopped. Your friend viewed it as his duty to save the people- and he did, he managed to slay the beast. Unfortunately it had wounded him badly and he found his end in its flames. They found no more than ash and black bones on a burnt field."

  


Geralt did not reply. His vision appeared to be tilting as if the ground below his feet could disappear any second. This could not be real. Jaskier could not possibly have been this stupid. He didn't even know how to wield a sword. And yet.. it did sound just like him. He pocketed the gold and began walking back to Roach, still in denial.

He was only a few days away from Oxenfurt. Jaskier had _known_ he was coming to pick him up, why had the bard not just waited to let _him_ deal with the issue? Or tried to send a message? Did Jaskier possibly have any reason to believe Geralt would not come? Maybe he had thought Geralt would meet up with Yennefer again and stay with her instead.

It was his fault, he thought, he was the one to blame for Jaskier’s death. He should have been in Oxenfurt sooner, should have made sure the idiot could not get himself in trouble. And now, because he had not been there, Jaskier was just… gone. He would never see him again, would never travel with him again, never again hear his stupid, obnoxious, wonderful voice-

“Oh, Geralt! Thank the gods, I found you.”

Well, either he was going insane in his mourning, or he was very much still hearing said voice. And it was coming from right behind him.

He turned around slowly to meet a pair of familiar blue eyes blinking up at him from underneath a big hooded cloak.

“What’s wrong, Geralt?”, Jaskier asked with a smirk, “you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

  
“You’re alive”, he blurted out, staring at the bard in a mix of disbelief and utter confusion, “Jaskier, people keep saying you’re-”  
“Yes, yes, I know. Keep it to yourself, will you? Don’t need anyone hearing us”, he pulled the hood further down to hide his face, “come with me, we’ll go somewhere more private and then I’ll tell you everything.”  
He grabbed the witcher’s arm and began walking and there was nothing Geralt could do except follow him.

“What is going on?”, he asked, “and why are your clothes so… dull?”  
Underneath the cloak there was no sign of the bard’s usually bright and colourful doublets, instead he wore a simple brown jacket and matching trousers.

“I’ll tell you in a minute”, Jaskier replied without looking at him, “we’re almost… oh, there we are!”  
He stopped in front of a small inn and dragged Geralt inside; through the door, up a little narrow staircase and into a room.

“I’m back”, Jaskier declared, taking off his cloak, “and I found Geralt!”  
In the corner, sitting at a wooden desk, a girl looked up. She’d been hunched over a bunch of sheet music spread out in front of her and, as she raised her head, golden locks of hair fell into her face, covering one of her bright blue eyes.

“So you’re the famous White Wolf I’ve heard of?”, she asked with a small grin on her lips.

“Geralt, may I introduce you to Essi Daven?”, Jaskier smiled brightly, “also known as Little Eye, she is an old childhood friend of mine and, as it happens, a fellow musician who, just as I, studied at Oxenfurt.”  
Geralt nodded briefly, looking from one to the other, “you’ve got explaining to do, bard. Why do people think you died?”  
“Because I did, officially”, the troubadour said nonchalantly, “you see, Essi and I have started this rumour and faked my death.”  
  


“What?”, Geralt frowned, “but _why_?”

“Take a seat, Geralt”, Essi said, “this is going to be a long story.”  
There was no second chair in the room, so the witcher sat down on the bed. As glad as he was to see Jaskier alive and healthy, he was not in the mood to solve any riddles and, truth be told, he was _mad_ the idiot had made him worry for no reason at all. So far, none of it was making sense. What kind of trouble could the bard have possibly gotten into that required him to pretend to be dead? And how did the girl get caught up in this mess?  
“So?”, he asked after a moment of silence, “tell me. What are you faking your own death for?”  
“Fame, my dear witcher”, Jaskier smirked wickedly, “fame.”


End file.
